This might be the most un-festive Christmas I’ve had since my mid-life bachelor days. Sure, we attended “Christmas on The Square” in town. We put up a wreath, a tree and a few holiday nik-naks. But it occurred to me when I heard Christmas music playing in Harps the other day that it was the first I’d noticed that this year.
Which is fine with me, actually. By this time every Christmas season, I’ve had my fill of that playlist.
About noontime yesterday, Christmas Eve, the homesite was totally socked-in by fog. Soon after, it began to rain and didn’t quit ’til the wee hours this morning, ultimately dropping four inches of the wet stuff. Deb and I had a pleasant enough Sunday — no holiday stress, no urgency, absolutely no pressure.
The highlight for me, strangely, was watching a documentary about Ruby Ridge, one that I hadn’t seen before. I didn’t come away with anything that I didn’t already know, but it never hurts to be reminded of those lessons.
Our first Christmas dawn on The Mountain likely wouldn’t’ve inspired Currier and Ives — another round of dense fog and a sodden landscape. A gusty wind kicked up early today, and temperatures are expected to fall during the daylight hours, the wind making it “feel like” 30-ish.
Those raw conditions had us reconsidering our plans for Christmas dinner, which called for giving the outdoor grill its first workout. Deb suggested an alternative, noting, “It feels like the right thing to do.”
First, we exchanged humble gifts — a flashlight for Deb, a trapper hat for me — and unwrapped what thoughtful family and friends had given us.
And then we drove to Gassville.
It was only a couple of days ago that the husband-and-wife owners of Taylor’s Freez-King decided to open on Christmas Day — just from 11am to 3pm, limited menu, in case someone in the community needed a place to have an honest-to-jingle Christmas dinner. The price for ham and traditional fixins, including drink and pie, would be 15 bucks.
Freez-King’s employees wouldn’t be asked to work today — it’d be just the owners taking the orders, doing all the cooking and serving the meals. It was quite the risk they were taking.
Supporting them was “the right thing to do” Deb spoke of. We arrived before 11:30am — not a moment too soon.
The parking lot was filling up by then. (We learned later that people had begun gathering outside the door at 10:30am.) After waiting briefly in line, we stepped up to the counter.
“Y’all had no idea how this’d turn out, did you?” I asked the beaming owner.
“Lawd have mercy, no!” she said. “I just hope the food holds out.”
“Oh, there’s no way!” her husband shouted from the kitchen, laughing. “No way! Merry Christmas!”
Indeed, they were out of pie by 11:45am. Later I overheard the owner saying that she’d taken orders for 150 meals, and the wait to be served was running an hour.
Our food was great, the portions enormous and the atmosphere cheerful. It was a wonderful place to enjoy our Christmas dinner.
We took the long way back to The Mountain, swinging through Cotter first and then Yellville. We flopped into our respective recliners and lapsed into a carbohydrate coma.
Merry Christmas.
I’ll leave you today with video Deb captured a couple of nights ago in Cotter.
P.S.: Here in Ozarkansas, public accommodations have two restrooms, and everyone knows which one to use. Some of them — like the one in Cotter’s riverside park, appearing about the middle of that video and pictured in today’s header image — even get decorated for Christmas. ‘Merica.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB